


Think For Yourself

by mvernet



Series: The Blond Beatle Affair [9]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Episode Related, Episode The Neptune Affair, M/M, Missing Scene, Songfic, The Beatles - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 03:13:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6221332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mvernet/pseuds/mvernet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Illya is being held captive by the man who froze his heart, his first love, Admiral Marinesko. Napoleon is out in the cold searching for his sun.</p><p>A songfic inspired by <i>Think For Yourself</i> by The Beatles<br/>https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h66_v_vybwo</p><p>This fan-made youtube vid is bittersweet and adorable. I love the scratchy, well-loved record sound quality. Brings back wonderful memories of my Beatlemania days.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Think For Yourself

**Author's Note:**

> Beatles Rock Band animated version of _Think For Yourself_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4l7NM2nsk1k
> 
> When my kids first got The Beatles Rock Band, I sat down one afternoon, grabbed the mike and beat the game in four hours. I won all kinds of extras. My kids were impressed. It was all those hours in my room singing along with my little orange box monograph record player. I can still hear my old Dad, “It sounds like someone’s killin’ the cat!” Ah, sweet memories. 
> 
> Melanie performs her song, _Alexander Beetle_  
>  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmO49jDE7_8

Do what you want to do  
And go where you're going to  
Think for yourself  
Cos I won't be there with you  
~The Beatles~

Illya’s black boots hardly touched the pavement of Red Square as he left Leonid Brezhnev behind in his Kremlin office. But then he paused a moment midway. He could still feel the blush on his cheeks from the Russian style double kiss the General Secretary had bestowed on him. He had returned the great bear of a man’s hug. They had spoken of world peace and Brezhnev had called him, “The first of a new breed of Soviets.” 

_I feel like a schoolboy being praised by the headmaster! Illya Nickovetch your head will not fit inside the plane after all this praise. Napoleon will think I am an imposter if I don’t stop smiling like a happy schoolboy._

Illya looked around him at the Kremlin’s wondrous architecture. The colorful domes and wrought iron spires reached up to touch the sky. The sun kissed each dome with a glow that burned into one’s memory.

_I wish Napoleon were here with me._

It wasn’t the first time he had wished it. But he knew Napoleon was safe and on his way home, having saved the world yet again. Illya indulged himself a bit more, listening to the music of his mother tongue and watching people greet and embrace each other with great joy. It was a lovely scene, but he felt strangely set apart. This was no longer his world. He had no fond memories or family ties here. His family was far away in a gunmetal and chrome madhouse hidden behind a tailor shop. He rolled the names over in his mind.

_Sam, Uncle Alex, Napoleon. My country, my religion, my family._

Illya spotted a black limousine with a uniformed driver who saluted him respectfully. The driver was waiting to take him to the airport and his flight to New York City.

_Home._

Illya’s lips twitched into a smile as his black boots flew the rest of the way across Red Square.

“Captain Kuryakin? This way please.” 

Illya nodded.

 _This driver has the body of a circus strongman and the oily, moustached smile of a spy movie villain. I do not trust him._

The driver opened the door of the limousine with a flourish. The back seat was already occupied. Illya took in the spotless and well-tailored Admiral’s uniform reflecting the power and influence of a middle-aged officer. Conversely, dark cruel eyes, graying hair and nervous fingers spoke of a man who was insecure in his future.

“Ahhhh, Ilyushenka, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Artur…” Illya felt the circus strongman press up too close behind him. The driver wrapped a steel-like arm around him and plunged a needle into his neck. He was pushed roughly into the limousine and fell into Marinesko’s lap. He feebly tried to fend him off, but Marinesko was still muscular and fit. Illya heard familiar laughter through the swirling yellow fog invading his senses.

_No! No! Not him. Not again! Don’t panic Illya Nickovetch. You are an agent, not a frightened boy! You are not alone now. You have family. They will save you._

Illya felt cold hands pull at him. Then fog encompassed him completely.

 _Napoleon will help me… help..._ .

~~~O~~~

Illya felt as if a mushroom-shaped cloud in his head had blocked out the sun and the dust was slowly settling somewhere behind his eyes. 

_Gda ya? Where am I? I smell something. Wood. Szhigat!_

Illya opened his eyes and tried to focus on the room he was in. The walls and floors seemed to be vibrating and colors were pulsing in and out as if they were breathing.

_Drugged then. Chyort vozmi! Artur! He drugged me._

Illya struggled to move his arms. Each had been handcuffed to a heavy old fashioned brass bed. He kicked his legs, but strong chains attached to the foot board of the bed bit into his ankles. He shook his head and surveyed the room. Despite the danger it portended, it was a surprisingly pleasant room with nineteenth century details and furnishings. It was trimmed in ornate oak. There was a wide deep fireplace where a small fire supplied the only warmth. 

Illya squinted as his vision made the fireplace glow and waver. Instead of a mantel there was a blue and white tiled warming shelf with a cast iron teapot sitting in wait for a guest to want some tea. Over the cozy fireplace, carved in wood was a quote. _All, everything that I understand, I understand only because I love ~ Tolstoy._

Illya licked his dry lips.

_Wouldn’t it be nice to be here in this bed drinking tea with my Dorogoy? I would read him War And Peace and kiss him when Tolstoy speaks of love. Hurry, Napoleon. I do not wish to wait any longer._

Illya saw something blue reflected against his open white cotton shirt someone had unbuttoned. Looking around for the source, he saw his uniform jacket and hat thrown on an antique rocking chair. His boots and leather belt were tossed in a corner. On the floor near the boots his communicator lay in pieces, as if stomped on by a boot heel. 

_Chyort! Do I still have the earring?_

Illya twisted his head and rubbed his ear against his shoulder. The earring was still there.

 _Sam will be able to track me. Hopefully.Take stock Illya Nickovetch! You are drugged. But uninjured and surprisingly without pain. You still have your homing device, You have your boots, so explosives, lock pick, knife, flashlight, grenades, wire snips are within reach when you get the opportunity to escape. Napoleon will be here any moment. You are in great shape._

Illya noticed the blue light again. It was perhaps the most beautiful light he had ever seen. He was mesmerized and all else left his mind. With blurry eyes he followed the woodwork on its path around the room. Protruding from each corner was a carved face. They seemed to progress from babyhood to old age. He thought perhaps their lips were moving. Telling him the many tales always hidden in the wood of old houses, He blinked as if in doing so they would still. He looked above his head and found the mask of death carved into a medallion on the ceiling. He closed his eyes and shivered.

_Find the blue light, Illya Nickovetch. It must be very important._

Illya opened his eyes once again and tried very hard to follow the enticing light. He traced the light to a stained glass window adorning a nook where a dressing table stood, perhaps waiting for the lady of the house’s spirit to return from the grave. Illya’s ice blue eyes grew wide as he took in the artistry of the geometric shapes in the panes of glass. The light seemed to hold the answers to all the questions he ever had. The shimmering blue glass reminded him of Sasha’s eyes. He heard Sasha’s voice in his head.

_Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin! Remember what they taught you! The white wolf has drugged you! You must come to me and stay with me till Napoleon rescues you. Remember your place of tranquility. Someone comes. I will be here for you, little brother._

Illya remembered his instruction at the UNCLE training school. “Prepare a place in your mind to retreat when tortured.” The other students had picked family homes or peaceful beaches. Napoleon told him his retreat was a sailboat. Illya could not find a peaceful spot in his mind till he thought of Sasha’s eyes.

“Sasha?” he slurred. Then Illya’s senses were accosted with the scent of strong, Turkish cigarettes and vodka.

His mind cleared as adrenaline washed through his body.

“Artur?”

I've got a word or two  
To say about the things that you do  
You're telling all those lies  
About the good things that we can have  
If we close our eyes

Do what you want to do  
And go where you're going to  
Think for yourself  
Cos I won't be there with you

“Artur! What do you think you are doing? You think you can kidnap an Agent of The U.N.C.L.E. without serious repercussions? And outside of the General Secretary’s office? At Red square? Have you gone mad?”

Marinesko chuckled and sat down on the bed. lllya gasped and tried to pull away as he laced his fingers through his blond hair. Illya heard Sasha’s voice in his head.

_Talk to him, little brother. Distract him._

Marinesko stroked Illya’s chest suggestively. He pulled the shirt out of Illya’s regulation gray wool pants and unbuttoned it fully to give himself more access to the golden skin beneath the uniform.

“Ilyushenka, you are even more beautiful now that you have grown to be a man. I did not think it possible.“

“Artur? Wh... why do we not reminisce somewhere more comfortable. Release me. Please. I could do with a glass of strong, Russian tea flavored with vodka.”

Marinesko chuckled again. He noticed Illya’s earring sparkling in the light of the cooling fire’s last embers. He reached for it, and Illya grew very still.

_Little Brother! I said to distract him!_

Marinesko played with the shiny bauble, and leaned down to whisper in Illya’s ear.

“So pretty, Ilyushenka. You can not hide your motives from me. That imbecile Waverly could have sent anyone. But you came, did you not? You have missed your lover, da? Only I could satisfy such a beauty. I know, Ilyushenka. You have returned to me. There are great things I want to do with you by my side.”

Illya pulled his head away from the groping hand. He gritted his teeth.

“You disgust me! I am repulsed by your filthy touch. Me? Illya Nickovetch Kuryakin, come back to you! I detest you! I loved you once and you taught me that love was pain. You nearly destroyed me! Let me go! You are delusional!”

_Oh, little brother. You get more flies with honey than with vinegar. You best come to me soon!_

Illya slumped. He rattled his handcuffs ineffectively against the bed frame.

“Release me, Artur. Go on and do what you want to do, I will not hinder you. Just do it without me.”

Marinesko stood and wandered over to his still burning cigarette that lay in the ashtray on the dresser near the door. He lifted it and took a slow drag, holding the heady smoke in his lungs as long as possible. Then exhaled with a sigh.

“I am disappointed, Ilyushenka, but not surprised.”

Marinesko picked up a syringe next to the ash tray on the dresser top. His cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. The smoke curled around his head making him blink his eyes as he approached the bed. He sat and looked at Illya for some time, using one hand to finish his cigarette and blowing smoke in Illya’s eyes. Illya‘s eyes burned and started to fill with tears. 

Marinesko smirked. “Crying, Agent Kuryakin?” He took his cigarette and stubbed it out on Illya’s bare chest. Illya’s body strained against its bonds. He clenched his teeth and moaned to keep from screaming. Memories came flooding back with the terrible smell of his own flesh burning. This man had always been cruel. Cruel and abusive. Illya opened his mouth to pant through the bright flashes of searing pain sparking across his vision. Napoleon’s face and gentle smile floated before him just out of reach. Illya wondered how he had ever thought what Artur had given him was love.

Marinesko laughed and tossed the remains of his cigarette across the room.

_Little Brother! Come to me! Take my hand, little one! Hurry!_

“You see, Ilyushenka, I had hoped you would want to join me because you still love me. But I fear time and perhaps Waverly have turned you against me.” He rolled up the sleeve of Illya’s shirt and plunged the needle into his vein. He smiled as Illya’s eyes grew wide at the sensation of fire that moved through his bloodstream.

“This drug cost a pretty penny, but I was assured that with only five injections, one each day of your fortuitous visit, I would be able to control your mind and body. I have you back, Ilyushenka. You are mine again.”

Illya tried to fight the drug. The yellow fog was upon him again. Then he saw a wondrous light, blue and bright, pierce the fog like a beacon. He felt himself shrinking, as fears and worry fell from him like icicles falling from the roof line in spring.

I left you far behind  
The ruins of the life that you have in mind  
And though you still can't see  
I know your mind's made up  
You're gonna cause more misery

Do what you want to do  
And go where you're going to  
Think for yourself  
Cos I won't be there with you

~~~O~~~

Four-year-old Illya Nickoveth Kuryakin, dressed in summer play clothes of green calico blouse and shorts, spun around in a circle as he took in the scents and sounds of the wildflower meadow. He skipped a few steps, spied a bug, and fell to his bare knees on the soft soil. His tiny toes wrapped in little leather sandals pushed into the dirt with a satisfying squish.

“Little brother! Do not make me wait! I have much to show you!”

Young Illya looked up to see his brother scowling at him and tapping his toe. They looked almost identical except for their sizes and the fact that Alexander Nickovetch Kuryakin was dressed in red calico. His blond hair, slightly longer than his brother’s, was tied back with an old, red velvet ribbon. If one looked very close, one could see that big brother’s eyes were a shade darker than little brother’s.

“Big bug, Sasha. Look!” A brown beetle wandered excitedly in and out of the little boy’s fingers.

Sasha shook his head and pulled Illya to his feet, bending to brush the dirt from his little brother’s knees.

“I keep, Sasha?”

“You may keep him in the tree house. Do you not want to play in the tree house papa built for us?”

Illya didn’t answer because he was so distracted by his new beetle friend.

Sasha let out an exasperated sigh and picked Illya up. Illya wrapped one arm loosely around Sasha’s neck, keeping his wonder-filled, blue eyes on the brown bug. He closed the bug carefully inside of his chubby fist and flung his other arm around Sasha’s neck, then rested his head on his shoulder.

“Illy love Sasha. Sasha take care Illy?”

“Yes, silly Illy. Sasha always takes care of Illy.”

~~~O~~~

The two brothers sat high in a majestic Caucasian Fir tree. They played on the floor, making people and villages out of pine cones and pebbles. Illya’s beetle was safe in an empty matchbox. A white wolf prowled below them, sniffing the air whenever the boys laughed and wrestled far above. Illya smiled mischievously, stood on his tippy toes and leaned over the sturdy railing. He dropped a pine cone on the head of the wolf, giving a whistle like a bomb. The wolf snarled and snapped. Illya cried, “Esplode!” and jumped into his brother’s arms.

“lllya! Why must you make the wolf angry? Sit down like a good boy and play till Napoleon comes.”

“‘Poley come soon?”

“As soon as he can. You know this. He has to find you. You are forever getting yourself lost.”

Illya cupped his hand and put it against Sasha’s ear, he whispered, “Secret, Sasha. Illy loves ‘Poley.”

“No secret, silly Illy. Everyone in the whole wide world knows you love Napoleon and Napoleon loves you. Icky.” Sasha stuck out his tongue.

Illya stood, put his arms akimbo and tried to scowl. “‘Poley not icky. ‘Poley nice.”

Sasha laughed. “Big tough Illya. Yes, yes. Napoleon is very nice and he will come very soon. Come play. We will build Amerika for Napoleon.”

Illya clapped his hands and danced in a circle. “Amerika for ‘Poley! Amerika for ‘Poley!”

Illya stopped suddenly and pouted.

“What is it little brother? Is the white wolf making you hurt again?”

Illya closed his eyes, thinking hard. “Big Illy loved the white wolf. Big Illy needs to give him… chance.”

Sasha stood and pulled Illya into a hug. “Big Illy can go and talk to white wolf one more time. But he must come right back here to wait for Napoleon. He must or we will all be lost.”

Illya nodded. “Da, Sasha.”

~~~O~~~

Marinesko patted Illya’s cheek roughly. “Time for your next injection, Ilyushenka. If you wake up and speak to me nicely I will give you some water.”

Illya licked his parched lips. He had emerged from the safety of the wildflower meadow and was met by an overpowering thirst. He opened his eyes and moaned. He tried to speak.

“Artur. Water. Please.”

Marinesko smiled and held a cup to Illya’s lips. He drank quickly, not knowing if his thirst would ever be quenched.

Illya sighed weakly as the cup was taken away. It was harder to clear his mind this time.

“Well, how are you feeling? Ready to stand with me against the world, my love?”

“Artur, it is not too late. Release me and I will tell Waverly not to arrest you. You are not thinking properly. You can rectify the mistakes you have made. You still have a future, Artur. My life has taken a different path. My future does not have room for you. I did love you once. For the sake of that love...”

Although your mind's opaque  
Try thinking more if just for your own sake  
The future still looks good  
And you've got time to rectify  
All the things that you should

Marinesko stood and paced the room, getting more and more angry with each step.

“When is this blasted drug going to work?” he shouted.

He grabbed Illya’s black leather belt and started to beat him. Illya shouted out in surprise and pain. He twisted and turned on the bed to escape the sting, but he found he could not control his aching muscles. Marinesko was snarling and growling deep in his throat as he struck Illya’s body with all his formidable strength. Truly like a white wolf out of control with rage and fury he would not stop. Illya moaned as the buckle and leather cut him and turned his skin into fire. In his mind he ran as fast as he could into the fog back to the meadow and into Sasha’s arms.

~~~O~~~

Sasha wrapped his arms tightly around his trembling and sobbing little brother. “Illy, Illy. I’ve got you dearest. Do not cry. You should not have gone back there, but you are so brave to try and help the white wolf. I am so proud.”

Illya wept and held his brother as close as he could. He jumped as if being whipped.

“Illy. You must not pay attention to the pain. I will sing you a song, da? You must listen closely to the words so that you can sing along next time.”

Sasha sat Illya in his lap and rocked him as he held him close. Illya’s sobs quieted to hitched breaths as he tried his best to obey his brother. But it was so hard. Little Illya wiped his face on his green calico covered shoulder and held tight to the red calico cloth of Sasha’s blouse. Sasha’s sweet singing voice wrapped itself around little brother and kept the wolf at bay.

I had a little beetle  
so that Beetle was his name  
and I called him Alexander  
and he answered just the same  
and I put him in a matchbox  
and I kept him all the day  
but brother let my beetle out  
yes brother let my beetle out  
he went and let my beetle out  
and beetle ran away.

~~~O~~~

Illya’s face was all blue eyes and concern. “Sasha let beetle out?” Sasha reached behind Illya and grabbed the matchbox containing the brown beetle He placed it in Illya’s hand. Illya peeked into the box and saw beady black eyes looking at him. He closed the box and smiled.

“Nyet, silly Illy. You still have your beetle. It is just a song. Allow me to continue?”

“Da.” Illya snuggled closer, content in his brother’s lap.

~~~O~~~

we looked in all the places  
that a beetle might be near  
and we made the kind of noises  
that a beetle likes to hear

~~~O~~~

Sasha stopped singing and with a twinkle in his eye made his very best beetle noises. He tickled his little brother’s toes. Illya squirmed, giggled and shook his hair in front of his face. Sasha giggled along with him and was glad he had made him forget his tears. Sasha pulled Illya close to him again, patted his hair back into place and continued his song.

~~~O~~~

and I heard a kind of something  
and I gave a sort of shout  
it was a beetle house  
and Alexander Beetle coming out!

~~~O~~~

“Oh, found him! Found him!” Illya clapped.

“Shush and listen, little one.”

~~~O~~~

it was Alexander Beetle  
I’m as certain as can be  
and he had that kind of look as though  
he thought it might be me  
and he had that kind of look as though  
he thought he ought to say  
“I’m really very sorry that I tried to run away”

~~~O~~~

“Sasha? Illy want let beetle out.“

“So his best friend can find him and take him home?”

“Da. Sasha.”

“What a good boy you are!”

Both boys watched as Illya opened the matchbox and the beetle climbed out. He scooted around Illya’s hand, across the floor, into a crack and was gone.

“Bye bye, beetle.”

The boys heard a rumbling across the meadow. They looked up expecting to see a black storm cloud. The rumbling grew closer, a thunderous vibration that shook the big fir tree. Illya clung to his brother and squeezed his eyes closed.

A deep, dangerous male voice filled the treehouse. “Lift that belt again and you’ll be missing a hand, you scum.”  
Sasha smiled down on his little brother, whose face lit up like a sunny day.

“‘Poley, Sasha! ‘Poley!”

~~~O~~~

Do what you want to do  
And go where you're going to  
Think for yourself  
Cos I won't be there with you

~~~O~~~

TBC  
Stay tuned for more exciting adventures starring music and secret agents!


End file.
